“Hush,” he answered her silent question. “Breathe to the music.” His arm now enclosed her. The chanting was all around her. The smoke from the fire was in her face and the great hall was a mist through the flames. Hazy purpled, all details lost. Skarga finally shut her eyes.
The wind took her and she spread her wings, her feathers light as the warm air beneath her. The fresh salt taste was sharp and sudden and she breathed it. All sensations were thrillingly elongated, tingling from nostrils to the tip tilted ends of each flight feather and the sudden tug of cold at her tail. She clipped the air, cutting it with her wings so that it divided, creating a backdraught of warmth, loving the exhilaration of contrast.
Winter’s endless night had blown and it was day, with a wispy green light and the sharp smell of the sea. Below, the distant land was stretched in bald coloured cubes which her eyes dissected, seeing each minute movement first pinned within its context, then as a moving target. Her aim would always be one cube along, attacking any victim in the place it would reach when her speed cut across and met its own.
She did not look up. Her horizon was always relevant to her need, and no other element roused her. But she was aware of beauty and of pleasure and of huge, adoring and adorable confidence. She was everything she could ever want to be. She feared nothing and no threat existed, for she was stronger than anything else and the sky was utterly hers. There was no further perfection beyond her scope of existence, and only hunger could lessen the totality of self definition. She had never been so happy, because there was nothing at all she wanted except to be herself.
Freedom, which she remembered once having desired, was now irrelevant. It was a component of being, which she would neither question nor relish, it being part of her eyes and her beak, her nostrils, her talons and of every quill and barb of her feathers. She knew herself so light that if the wind sped or blustered she would need to descend or be swept against her strength, but although she sensed the possible dangers, here in unchallenging peace she was content to love the thing she was. She loved the glaze of the sunshine on her back and the tang of every scent that travelled the thermals with her. She loved the stretch of her talons and the force she felt within them. She loved the sounds of summer, the whistle of the wind and the gentle song of smaller birds around her, the rush of trees below and the scent of pastures. Each movement of the air had its perfume and its flowing, luscious sound. She could see the smell of it.
Unexpectedly she felt an itch, a need to preen, and considered landing. Then, so suddenly that the plunge disorientated her and she felt only nausea, she was pulled back into the dark. Thoddun’s arms were around her, his face against her cheek so that the stubble of his chin rubbed rough, and his voice tickled her ear. “You must come back, little one. Something has happened.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
She felt sick. The real world swept in suddenly harsh and cold as a heaving unbelievable sadness washed through her. “I know,” said Thoddun softly, although she had said nothing. “You must stretch back into the human body. It is the first requirement after the Shift. You must think yourself into the self you now inhabit and bring the blood again into its old course. The return Shift was too sudden, but I had no choice. You must stay here. I have to go.”
He was gone at once and she sat alone and shuddering, taken by the confusion of two minds and two directions, seemingly uncontrollable. As Thoddun left the hall he called Egil and Erik, one word and pointing, and then the smoke hid everything else.
“What’s going on?” demanded Egil, hurrying over.
She didn’t want to speak of her flight, or its uneasy return. Speaking at all was uncomfortable and she was surprised when her tongue obeyed her. She said only, “I’ve no idea. Thoddun said it was important but he didn’t say what. I’d been – dreaming.”
“Look, half the men are leaving,” frowned Erik. “And some are Changing. There’s a threat, or they wouldn’t be doing that here.” Immediately he was up and running, joining the emptying of the hall.
Egil sat dutifully beside Skarga. Now understanding something of the Shift, she watched the effects on others. The great crowd was dispersing, a sudden splatter of ale as men spun around and strode to the doorway. Others, less interested or more confused, wandered, half dazed, half drunk. And between the swirl of smoke and the scurry of legs, of swinging tunics and the clank of knife swept from buckle, Skarga saw men drop to their knees, becoming as vague as the smoke that engulfed them, limbs distorted, fur billowing from bone, faces dipped as man, then raised as beast. The dark wolf which had threatened her was beside her again, and then it was gone, galloping towards the door. The next wolf had been a man moments before and she had watched him bend, shivering haunches in shadow, the fur folding itself out from his limbs, his back leaping into prickles. Ignoring Skarga, it rushed away.
The bears, like moving white snow, pushed through amongst the men and the men stepped aside for them. Sedate and unhurried, the bears accepted no man ahead. Skarga recognised Karr, Thoddun’s friend who had first found her in the southern tunnels. He was Shifting as he moved, the great sweep of his white fur still insubstantial, sprinkles of star dust across his man’s shirt and tunic. Deeper into the low gloom and scurrying amongst the men’s feet were a pair of silvery foxes, and a dark furred creature with a long snarl of teeth. The shadows were coming alive and moving. High above all their heads an eagle screeched.
Skarga was herself again. “Go if you want to,” she whispered to Egil.
Watching avidly, he shook his head. “The lord told me to stay with you.” It was clear he’d sooner leave.
“I don’t mind,” Skarga lied.
“I can’t disobey,” Egil muttered. “I’d never disobey the lord. But I suppose, if you actually order me to go –”
“I order you to go,” she said.
He was gone. Now more animals than men, each wove into fantasy, with the smoke floating and the lamplight spinning red symbols across the ice. Skarga saw creatures she had not known existed, and wondered if perhaps they did not. There were cats as huge as young bears, sleek fur blotched dark in strange patterns like blood stains, and fur twists to the peaks of their ears. One growled, the other hissed. Those still men kept their distance. Skarga looked for the giant Kjeld but did not see him. If he had Shifted, he was now unrecognisable. Nor did she see Orm, but thought perhaps he had left before Thoddun.
Some remained. A number of men slumped with the vacant smiles of the dreaming drunk. Two, elderly and thick bearded, sat talking, unconcerned by what so interested the others. Beside them two others played chess. Far back against the outer walls three bears stretched, and in the opposite corner she saw the great spread of a deer’s antlers. But where there had been hundreds, now there were few and Skarga was almost alone. She sat still and stared back into the fire. The hall shimmered its emptiness.
It was only moments and Egil came racing back, Erik behind him. They landed in a heap beside her, panting, and Egil said, “It’s just someone arriving. Some stranger with a huge retinue. Transanima of course, all wolves I think. They do come sometimes you know, from all over. Not that interesting. I don’t know why there was all this fuss.”
“Silly,” said Erik. “Because it was her.”
Many returned but Thoddun did not. The feast was restored. Those who returned came back to eat and drink again, to resume their escape from duty, from dreariness and from sobriety, laughing and talking, and to stare at Skarga. But when it was clear that Thoddun did not intend returning, Skarga asked Egil to fetch her crutches. He helped her to her bed and rushed off again, quick to join the gossip.
Skarga climbed amongst the furs. The lamp no longer flared and the chamber was vibrantly dark, echoing the tumbling wall of water. She closed her eyes, expecting the wine and the exhaustion of the Shift to send her deep into sleep. But it did not. Even the lullaby of the waterfall did not mesmerise her. She thought first of Thoddun, and curious, of the unexpected appearance of a female, a wolf-wo
man, which had so excited the men. She thought, both longingly and despairingly, of the Change she had seemingly made, becoming the bird in flight, and of the sudden Change back, which had been vertiginous and disturbing. The magic of the skies had been as beautiful as the vastness of the oceans and she wondered if Thoddun would ever let her creep into the heart of the bear. What he could do for her was glorious. She wondered, inevitably, what else he could do for her. Yet he might never trouble with her again for now he would find more familiar and loving company. There was the new arriving female. One of his own kind.
She was unaware of the precise moment when sleep took her, but was vividly aware of waking. The tiny flame lit golden within the black, one candle halo and behind it the sudden silver of the water’s spray. Thoddun was standing some distance from the end of the bed, his back to her as he stared at the rushing cascade, his hands clasped behind him, silent and still. He did not turn around when he said, “You did not wait for me.” She clambered up, trying to sit, wincing at the sudden reminder of her ankle. Thoddun turned and strode over, looking down at her. His expression was lost in shadow. “The moment was unfortunate and I should not have left you so abruptly,” he said. “Were you ill, coming back?”
She blinking away sleep. “With the crutches? No, I’m walking better each time.”
He wasn’t smiling. “No, child. Returning from the skies. Coming back from the eagle.”
She sighed. “It felt very strange. Like having to put on very large gloves without having any fingers or knowing the right way in. The skin – didn’t fit. I wasn’t ill, just nauseas and cold.”
He sat quickly beside her and took her hand as if examining it, tracing the veins and knuckles with his thumb. “You asked me once about the Shift. Now, in a small way, you’ve experienced it. I’m no shaman, I cannot play with the truth of your humanity, but I can use the chant and introduce my own experiences into your mind. But when something happened that demanded my attention, I could no longer sustain your flight. You came back as a child might, without tutoring. It should not have happened that way.”
She said, “The flying – it was wonderful,” hoping he would not let go of her hand.
At once he laid it, palm down, onto the bearskin cover, as if her thought had focused his consciousness. “One day I’ll take you again, and teach you properly,” he said. “But it is an experience which I have never shared before, nor introduced to someone of your race. That you can move as my thoughts direct you, is of profound interest to me. The next time I will ensure a more comfortable ending. The Shift itself should be controlled. It should be – exceedingly – pleasurable.”
She wished he would hold her but he moved no closer, so she said, “It was pleasurable. It felt glorious, even though I know I wasn’t really flying.”
He answered very softly and carefully as if not wishing to explain too much. “To yearn for the Change and then complete it, is – more than satisfaction. It is a climax of body and mind. But returning too suddenly can be terrible. It is forcing the living heart back into discarded emptiness. It seems you did not suffer either the extreme of joy or that of misery. Through me you experience only the reflection.”
He kept his distance, studiously, so she hung her head and said, “The reflection seems wonderful enough to me. Perhaps humanity doesn’t expect your sort of happiness. Perhaps I’ll never know.”
Thoddun smiled. “I believe otherwise,” he said. “Humanity seeks happiness from other sources. The transanima touch a greater resource, but we all need the fulfilment of potential.” He watched her as she avoided his gaze, motionless, deciding, then reached out and clasped her suddenly against him, as tightly as when she had offered herself to him in the cave. When he had refused her. He sat with her a moment as if listening to her thoughts, and then he said, “I never meant to insult you then, little one. My repudiation came from caution, not from distaste. I hope you know that, in spite of what you’re thinking now.”
She sniffed into his tunic. “It’s just – confusing.”
His lips touched the top of her hair. In the chill of the room, his breath felt very hot. “Your only experience of a man’s touch,” he said, “is from a man who loves pain, not pleasure.” He sighed, his fingers caressing the back of her neck. “I can hear your mind wanting me,” he said softly. “I can smell your desire. It is – unutterably tantalising. It arouses me, as the need to Shift arouses me. But your confusion forbids me. You do not realise what passion entails. What you want, you also fear.”
She knew she was blushing, and knew he could not see it, but would sense it. “Having my feelings known like that – is so terribly – uncomfortable.” Her voice was muffled against him. “You ought to – ignore me.”
He chuckled and cupped her chin, lifting her face to his. Then he kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “I can’t ignore you, and don’t intend to,” he said to her eyes. “But since you can’t hear my thoughts, I’ll tell you something of them. On the journey here, I wanted you, so very much, and I felt your own desire slowly growing, and could have manipulated that, and taken you then, as I would another woman. Denying you is no insult, little one. It is quite the opposite.”
Skarga pulled her head away and buried it again against his chest. “You mean respect?” She knew she was sniffing again, but it was better than crying, which she resisted desperately. “How can you respect me after – when you know too much about me? When you know what happened with Grimr. You knowing feels like being raped all over again, as if you were in the bed too.”
Almost roughly, he lifted her face to him again, leaned down and kissed her once more, this time firmly on the mouth, so that her words were silenced by his breath and the force of his lips. When he pulled back, he continued looking deep into her eyes. “Would you sooner I lie to you?” he said. “Shall I deny knowing your thoughts?”
She shook her head, catching her breath. “It’s too late for that.”
“Then listen, little gosling,” he said softly into her hair. “Yes, I know some of what Grimr did to you. I can’t help knowing that, because it’s so often in your mind and memory. I know you’d never had any man before him, and I know what he taught you. I know he was perverse, and cruel. All you know of touch and loving is in humiliation and pain. Your body wants me now, but you believe giving yourself means giving me the right to hurt you. My own desires follow the thoughts of the woman in my arms. Your expectations would be wrong for both of us. You don’t know what you want, and I won’t take advantage of that.”
“You talk as though I’m a baby,” she said. “But you know I’m not innocent at all.”
“You are forgetting something else,” he said. “I’ve told you of my own tired past. I know how repeated rape brings compliance. But that does not banish innocence nor imply experience.” His embrace surrounded her, his hands firm without caress or exploration. “And you dislike me in your thoughts, but I don’t pry or poke, as sometimes you’ve accused me. I could, if I wished. I could read more of what you’ve suffered, and more of what you desire. But I do respect your privacy, little one, whether it seems that way or not.”
“I thought,” sniffed Skarga, “you said you don’t have a conscience.”
He had begun to release her, setting her back against the pillows, but he paused. “Is that what it is?” he said. He seemed intrigued. “I have standards, of a sort, I suppose. But how I treat you is not how I’d treat another.”
“Because you’re fond of me,” she said.
He laughed, and moved away, ready to stand. She waited for him to speak but he did not, so to stop him leaving, she said, “The boys said a werewoman came to the castle. You told me how rare that is. Will you respect her too?”
He looked searchingly at her. “Every transanima is welcome to come and go. I don’t make specific invitations, except to you.” He paused again before saying, “This ice palace is the only place where we can freely be ourselves, so it must be freely open.”
“The men
seemed so excited,” she said in a hurry. “Perhaps I should be excited too. Is she, I mean, do you,” and she ran out of words.
Thoddun smiled. “Yes, she is, and no, I do not. Her name is Mandegga and she’s a werewolf, and experienced, which in our terminology means not untried or unexpressed. I imagine she’ll come to find you, once she knows you’re here.”
“And I suppose,” wondered Skarga, “if there’s no other place for a woman to sleep, and this room is big and the bed’s so big too –”
This time his smile reached into his eyes. “She has already demanded it, and I have denied her,” he said.
Skarga was relieved, and admitted, “I’m glad. Is that selfish?”
“Undoubtedly,” he said. He stood abruptly. The small candlelight did not trespass amongst the shadows and his eyes seemed more black than blue. “But I am not – pleased – at her return.”
“You know her already?”
“She lived here,” he nodded, “for some time, but some time ago. I’ll tell you something of her after you’ve made your own judgements. There is a considerable story to tell but you should first meet her and decide for yourself whether you wish to know more. For now, I believe I’ve said as much as I came to say, and a good deal more. Now, after your own experiences, you should sleep.”
She knew herself wide awake. “Isn’t it morning yet?”
He smiled again. “It’s never morning here, child. We have endless night or endless day.”
She considered a moment carefully before replying. “If you’re tired,” though finding she could not sustain eye contact, “you could sleep here. After all, it’s your bed.”
He did not smile at all. “Perhaps,” he said, “you have learned to read thoughts after all.”
Pausing only briefly, he sat beside her, turned his back, unbuckled his belt and slung it across the floor, kicked off his boots, tugged his tunic off over his head and then stretched, sighed deeply, and reaching out, once more took Skarga firmly into his embrace. All through the journey from the mountains of the Nor’way across to the northern ice caps of the Rus, they had slept often curled one to the other. But now wrapped in the welter of his couch, he held her only for a moment as though unwilling to tempt further affection, then released her quickly and turned away. He said nothing, stretched out amongst the furs and silks, did not touch her again, and was instantly asleep.
Stars and a Wind- The Complete Trilogy Page 38